


Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes

by azephirin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Age Difference, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Community: blindfold_spn, Dirty Talk, F/M, Female In Command, Femdom, One Night Stand, Pegging, Pre-Canon, Sex Toys, Stanford Era, Veterans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>She's a rich girl, she don't try to hide it, diamonds on the soles of her shoes. He's a poor boy, empty as a pocket with nothing to lose.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "John/Jess, pegging" over at [](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/profile)[**blindfold_spn**](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/). Title and summary from "[Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes](http://www.paulsimon.com/node/61)," by Paul Simon.

He's twice her age, at least. Older, but not just in years—his face is lined and the circles under his eyes are heavy, not from a few days without sleep but from a bone-deep exhaustion of a type she can't imagine.

It's not her business, though. They're strangers who met at a dirty little bar in the Mission, and if she wants to drive into the city and go to a dive bar and then use her father's credit card to fuck somebody at the Mandarin Oriental, that's her business, just like the circles under his eyes and the ring on his left hand are his.

She pats his thigh. "Raise up, daddy. Better this way."

His thighs are muscular, with some truly disturbing scars—she figures he must have been in a war. Young for Vietnam, but maybe one of the Latin American conflicts in the 1980s that everyone forgets the US was involved with, or even the first Gulf War, especially since he's probably younger than he looks. He's got a little bit of a belly, but his hips are lean. He raises them for the pillow that she tucks beneath, and she can't help it: She licks the line of the crease between hip and thigh, then nips him with her teeth on the curve of his ass. He makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a rumbled laugh, and she smiles when he turns to look at her.

"That's about the strangest thing I've ever seen a woman wear," he observes.

She takes the lubricant from the bedside table. "Maybe, but it works. You want to slick up my cock, get me hard before I fuck you?"

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I really do want to do that."

He starts with one hand, circling and stroking the silicone as she thrusts gently into his grip, but then he sits up and says, "I bet your little clit wants some attention."

He already gave it some very satisfactory attention earlier, on his knees as she leaned against the dresser with her hands in his hair, but she's not going to say no to more. She spreads her legs a little, and he keeps slicking her cock with one hand while he maneuvers around the harness's straps with the other and teases her clit with the same rhythm. His hands are rough but his fingers are skillful, and she's moaning when she pushes him back. "Not yet," she says. "You're going to suck me off again after." She nudges him back onto his stomach.

She starts with her fingers, opening him up. His lack of surprise makes her think he's done this before—whether with a woman or a man she has no idea, though the image of him bent over for another man's cock is a delicious one—but he's tight enough that it's clearly been a while. It's not long, though, before he's pushing back against her fingers; she can feel his prostate and she rubs it, smooth and even, until he's moaning, back arching, legs spread wide and desperate.

She pulls out, and he pants something that was probably very uncomplimentary.

She slaps him across the ass, and he gasps, "Fuck!"

"You didn't just come, did you, John?"

"No. God, fuck. No. But it was close."

She leans down to kiss his shoulder—another scar whose origin she decides not to imagine—and whisper, "That's what my cock's going to feel like. Only bigger, and harder. You want it?"

His sharp "Please!" is completely satisfying.

The dildo's actually a little smaller than the average man's cock—smaller than his, for certain—but for someone not used to taking it up the ass on a regular basis, it's pretty substantial. She goes slowly, stopping partway in to thrust in and out, nice and easy, to give him more on the prostate and let him get used to it. "More," he finally bites out, and she pushes in all the way.

She stretches out on top of him, pinning his wrists with her hands, kissing the back of his neck and tonguing the shell of his ear as she pumps in and out at the same steady pace. "That feel good, John? You like me holding you down, fucking you with my cock?"

They both know that he could throw her off of him; that isn't the point.

"Feels good," he gasps. "You can do it faster. Harder."

"Yeah, I knew you wanted to be fucked hard," she says, and does.

His moans become cries, deep and staccato, like he's trying to bite them back but they escape anyway. She tightens her grip on his wrists, whispers, "I bet you come from this, just from my cock in you, don't even need to be touched. You going to come for me like this, all spread out?"

"Please—"

"Please what? Please give it to you harder?" She props herself up, weight on her hands, and thrusts into him fast and rough, again and again, and then he's coming, head thrown back, hands fisted in the sheets. His shout is hoarse, not a word, just an exclamation of intense pleasure that subsides into moans as the aftershocks roll through him.

When he's still, she pulls out and lets him turn over. He unfastens the harness and puts it aside as she slides her fingers through the wet come on his cock and stomach. "God," he says, shuddering as she runs her hand over his sensitized cock; then he grins up at her. The circles under his eyes are still there, probably always will be, but his face is more relaxed, the lines a little less pronounced except for the crinkles around his eyes. "Didn't you say something about me sucking you off?"

She can't help grinning back. "I liked you on your knees," she says, and he obeys.


End file.
